<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Mistake by anaturalintrovert</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557572">Mistake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaturalintrovert/pseuds/anaturalintrovert'>anaturalintrovert</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Macbeth - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drabble, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Missing Scene, Murder, Self-Hatred, Short, Short One Shot, i did this as writing practice and while my english class studied macbeth in school, this is completely off the cuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:00:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaturalintrovert/pseuds/anaturalintrovert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Macbeth was guilty and he knew it. Accepting his sins is harder than he thought it would be, repenting even more so.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mistake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this entirely off the cuff because I studied Macbeth in English. That’s it. This isn’t what I normally write but I like it so I’m posting it. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>Committing regicide was a lot more than just a mistake. Committing regicide was world altering. God himself was gasping. The clouds had stopped moving. A crow cried out in hypocritical disgust.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>The blood was on his hands. Bright and red and warm. It flowed through his wrinkles into his pores, travelled along the veins and dripped off of his fingernails. He had seen the sight of blood before. He was not a lamb encaged in a pen beneath the stars. This blood was different.</p><p>It was divine blood. Dark and red and divine and it felt disgusting, all on his hands, all on his heart.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>The dagger had been left in Duncan’s chest for the time being. It had tangled itself in the entrails. It was all red. Macbeth didn’t have to look at himself in the sheen of the blade. He would have cried. He should have cried. His wife would be so angry if he cried. The stars above had to see his tears because Macbeth wasn’t a bad person and he wouldn’t commit regicide without crying.</p><p>No tears. No water to cleanse the deed. No salt to add to the wound, not until the time was right.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>He’d fought for his breath. His lungs quivered as he inhaled. Every exhale felt like a scream. His hands were clasped together because otherwise they’d violently shake.</p><p>He stood very alone in Duncan’s quarters. He took the knife out from the torso with an awful crack coming from the ribs and traced his finger along the edge of the blade. Dull. All done with being sharp and powerful. Back to the normality that came with being inanimate.</p><p>It was very tangible. Not an illusion this time. The blood left a mark on his already bloodied hands. It had started to drip onto his boots. It would dry and stain. It would stain no matter how much he willed it not to. It would stain no matter how much water he used, how many tears he cried, how many floods God would send.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>He was not a lamb, he never had been, but Macbeth now knew exactly what he was.</p><p>The Devil’s goat.</p><p>He was the bloodied pelt, the gnarled horns, and the horizontal pupils that were forever intent to spot disaster. He was the villainy and the sin and the outcast he had been raised to fear. He was the cheater and the scoundrel and the murderer when his job - his one and only job - was to protect the king.</p><p>Look where that got him.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p><p>He couldn’t go back to immediately greet his wife. He had to breathe. He stood outside in the dark dreary night and looked into the sky. The stars were hiding. The moon did not shine. The wind hurt Macbeth’s ears and numbed his fingers. Rain was falling in thick, heavy sheets.</p><p>Macbeth could have laughed.</p><p>Macbeth had made a mistake.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>